


Not Summer Yet

by thystlodagi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Toys, Walk Of Shame, Witty Banter, a kink in that arrow, hangover haze, probably longer than intended, strap ons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:11:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9570995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thystlodagi/pseuds/thystlodagi
Summary: Emma is straight as an arrow, bonafide heterosexual. Has never been attracted to a girl in her life. But, you know, there's an exception to every rule.





	

Waves beat against the sand, clean blue waters, clean blue sky. It’s a beautiful day, but not quite as stunningly bright as summer, not yet. Mid spring still has a gentle hold on the sea breeze, giving it just a bit of a nip past the way it whips hair around. She brings up a hand, tucking a ginger lock behind her other shoulder again so it stops sticking to her lips, even though she knows it won’t stay in place long. Every once in a while she gets that rise of goosebumps over her arms, but she won’t take the light jacket from around her waist.

 

Fingers play at the stem of her margarita glass, blown to have the texture of wood. She’s not facing the horizon, but she can still see the sky turning from that blue, evening there and turning to night. Clouds aren’t quite so white as they scoot by. The empty seats on either side of her were just being contemplated when one of them is filled, and the first thing she sees is those  _ ears _ . She can’t help squinting, even though this sort of thing is a common occurrence around here, but…

 

A pair of far too bright green eyes point her way through square rimmed glasses, and she realizes she’s been caught blatantly staring. At least this girl doesn’t look offended in the least- she simply flashes a bright and sharp grin, turning back to grab the barman’s attention. That dainty little hand waves and waves, but nothing happens. Emma rests an elbow on the counter, sipping at lime and tequila as blues like the ocean beside them scan over her again. Exactly the kind of body she wishes she had, if a little shorter. She could define the term “hourglass figure”.

 

A couple moments pass, and she still hasn’t caught the barman’s attention. Scoffing, sneering, Emma raises her own hand, much higher than this other girl is getting with her bent elbow, a sharp whistle jutting out of her teeth. “Nicky! You got one over here!” 

 

Finally, he looks up, and this little catgirl does too, blinking up at the girl next to her before both eyes close in this so endearing duchenne grin. This Nicky eyes her expectantly, and she turns back to him all smiles, not at all put off by the fact that he didn’t notice her for a few solid minutes. “Gimmie an orgasm.”

 

Emma sputters, thanking whatever gods are actually watching that she didn’t just get tequila in her nose. But Nicky doesn’t bat an eyelash, simply reaches into the fridge behind him for the irish cream. “Made on your B.A.C.K.?”

 

“Mhm!” She nods, and those little ears flop a bit with such a quick motion.  _ Right _ , Emma reminds herself,  _ there’s some crazy cocktail names out there _ . She shouldn’t be so flustered. The drink of incriminating color and texture is slid in front of this girl, and she takes right to it, much too quickly.

 

An elbow brushes by her shoulder. “You might wanna slow down. Nicky doesn’t make sissy drinks.”

 

Green eyes blink again, and she finishes at least another sip before she pulls the glass away. “Good! ‘Cause I don’t drink ‘em.” She sets the glass on the counter, swirling the cubes, and suddenly that grin is a little less endearing, a little more crooked. “My name’s Rayn. You?”

 

She tilts her head back and away a bit, regarding this girl with skepticism- but she’s just gotten decently more interesting. “Emma. Your name isn’t spelled with a y, is it?”

 

Rayn shifts, sidling herself right into the edge of Emma’s little bubble of space. “It is. My parents were total hippies. But, if I ever decide to be a stripper, I don’t have to pick a new name!”

 

Gods are doing good work today, keeping tequila out of her nose.

 

This cat looks entirely too pleased with herself for making this big and bad looking chick cough on her margarita not once but twice. Emma clears her throat, has to so she can speak. “You know the whole point of that is anonymity, right?”

 

The side of a knuckle is brought to the cat’s chin, and she hums in thought, her motions like those of someone on a live stage trying to project all the way to the back. “Don’t care.” Before Emma knows it, the rest of that drink is gone, and this time, Rayn extends her arm all the way, snapping a couple of times. “Nicky! Another one!”

 

For some reason, Emma has the feeling Rayn isn’t just a fast learner. She takes to the second drink only a little slower than the first, and most certainly notices the other watching her pass her tongue across her upper lip to catch the cream. Useless, besides- the surfer can’t tell from the back if it’s textured or not.

 

This time when Rayn shifts, it’s right into that bubble, entirely too comfortable with the proximity. It was only a couple of minutes that she seemed so pure and impressionable, but it was just enough to send Emma through a loop. Recovering at this point, she shifts herself, leaning against the counter, swinging legs so that she’s facing this new conversation partner. “I haven’t seen you here before. You usually go to another beach?”

 

That tail sways, and blue eyes flicker to watch it for a moment. “Yeah, but I’ve heard this is the surfing beach. Looks like I’m early, though.” She looks out to the sea, where there’s only a couple people out on the water, the ones that can stand the blast of cold when the water crashes down. The seas haven’t warmed just yet.

 

Blue follows green, and she can’t help smiling a little to herself- the ocean always brought this rise out of her. “Just by a month or so. Summer’s gonna slam down and you’re gonna have to fight for a wave.” Flicker back, Emma watches Rayn continue to stare out into the ocean. “How long have you been surfing?”

 

She looks back too, and that duchenne smile is back- what is this switch she’s flipping? “I haven’t. I just came to watch the girls in their bikinis, but it’s still too cold…” She heaves an exaggerated sigh, deflating with the breath, all while the surfer coils up in the seat next to her. A couple moments pass, and when she looks back up, Emma knows for damn sure those almost radioactive green eyes are ogling her, raking over her body like a set of nails, popping buttons in the mind behind them. Crooked grin returns. “You’re gonna have to tell me when you think it’s warm enough, Emmy.”

 

“Don’t call me Emmy.” Bristling, Emma pulls the salted rim to her lips, but pauses to continue. “And I don’t swing that way.” Her free hand points, finger flicking off to the horizon. “Straight as an arrow.”

 

Rayn pouts, even quivering her lip. “All the good ones are. You are hot as fuck, Emma, and you’d emasculate any guy that tried to get with you.” Hands are suddenly in her space, on her skin, wrapping around one of her biceps. “Look at this shit! You could knock me out in one punch.”

 

She’s conflicted. This girl is being entirely too pushy, but she’s stroking her ego just right, as if she’d already cracked her code. And, well, she is cute- if strictly in that way that Emma wants to have that body- but not in that way- Damn Nicky and his strong drinks. She yanks her arm away, but not before a good few moments of hesitation, not until those fingers start stroking in a way that’s far too familiar for a stranger she’s known all of a few minutes. “You’re something else.”

 

Withdrawing back into her own space, much to Emma’s comfort and some odd inkling of disappointment that she can’t explain, Rayn looks out to the sea again for a moment, tail swaying behind her. Lips tweak in a smirk. “I know.” One beat of silence, two, before she slides the glass between them, holding the rim with the tips of her fingers. Eyebrows quirk to match that grin, and Emma feels violated just looking at that face. “Hey, you wanna try this?”

 

A scoff. “I’m not gonna share an orgasm with you.”

 

Funny how the world likes to make liars out of us.

 

* * *

 

As uncomfortable as the first minutes might have been, Emma would be a liar to deny that this Rayn chick was interesting- much more so than most people brave or stupid enough to talk to her. She’s so comfortable somehow, that carefree spirit contagious in a way. They talked about their excitement for the coming summer, about surfing and just what Rayn would need to start. “You can’t start with just any board.” Emma states so matter of factly, leaning against the bar a little more with her elbow, talking with her hands. “You’re gonna hate lugging around a huge board, but if you try to start with a small one, you’re never gonna get the hang of it.” Blue eyes scan the cat’s body, and she grins a bit in response until the other ruins it by opening her mouth again. “How much you weigh?”

 

Ears pin back, but it might be only jokingly. “130. I thought you picked a board by height?”

 

Emma’s chuckled a bit throughout their conversation, but this time, she actually laughs, tilting her head back and everything. “Oh my god, who told you that? No, you pick it by weight, dumbass, it needs to be able to support you in the water. I’m not here to give you advice, but I’ll tell you this: don’t chase the pros. Until you know what to do in the best conditions, you’re gonna wipeout on every wave with a hard drop or pocket. If you see a pipe, you don’t touch it.”

 

Rich brown brows quirk, Rayn giving quite the skeptical look. “Uh-huh. And, I’m guessing you’re one of those pros I shouldn’t chase?” Tail swipes behind her, almost annoyed.

 

“I might be.” Spoken into the rim of a new glass. “You shouldn't chase me, in any case.”

 

* * *

 

A couple margaritas, tequila shots, and a bit more irish creme later, the sun has met the horizon, dipping off to the west. One of Rayn’s ears flicks as she looks off in the direction, and her body heaves in a sigh. “Kinda sucks that the city is on the east side of the island. Can you imagine the sunsets?” Her hands splay out, as if she’s trying to grab the sky, and Emma can’t help smirking. “It’s gotta be incredible on the other side of the mountains.”

 

Shoulders roll in a shrug, noncommittal. “Probably. And the sands over there are apparently black, too, according to the post cards. It’s all volcanic. But I can’t stand it too far from the city. This beach is about as far as I’ll go.” As if she were checking it was still there, she looks a bit to the south, at the giant looming tower of the Tech Sectors. In the dimming light, she can see the glow, everything still lit like day on those floating walkways.

 

Quiet filters in, and when Emma looks back, she finds two bright green eyes staring at her, judging her. That bushy tail sways behind the cat, and she gives an accusatory point. “You know, for as big and bad as you come off at first, you really aren’t the adventurous type.”

 

In a single sentence, Rayn has managed to negate all that ego stroking she did earlier. “Bullshit. I  _ define  _ the word daredevil. I make my money running cars into the ground at 200 miles an hour.” Emma leans forward, threatening the cat with her proximity, expression darkening.

 

But she’s unfazed. “And you’ve never been with a girl.” A beat, a blink, nonplussed. “Not once in your life.”

 

That violated feeling creeps back in. “... No.”

 

“You’ve never even kissed your best friend to practice when you were younger?” 

 

“No, I haven’t! My sister’s like my only female friend, and I don’t roll that way.”

 

Even though she isn’t smirking, Emma could swear she looks more smug than she did a moment ago, triumphant. Leaning in, closer, making  _ her  _ body the threat now. “So you’re really that against trying something once?”

 

At this point, people are looking their way. They’re still at a public tiki bar on a public beach, and at sunset, one of the most popular times. This cat has the surfer girl sweating in her seat, choking down a flush. A challenge has been posed. Emma doesn’t back down from challenges, not unless they go against who she is. She struggles to qualify this as something that integral to her person.

 

Wrapping a hand around one strap of her tote bag, she storms off, not looking back over her shoulder. If Rayn wants to follow, she will; and she does, looking like she’s won, almost skipping along behind. They leave the sparse crowds, moving off towards the rocks, the grass, the wild. Finally, Emma stops, turning on her heel, and finds Rayn has caught up to her, only a step behind. She's got her hands clasped behind her back, leaning forward a bit. “What, Emma, trying to ru-”

 

It all happens in a split moment. Emma's bag hits the sand, and she moves in, two long strides, grabbing the cat by the jaw. Lips meet, and at first Rayn is tense in her shock; but she doesn't take long at all to get over it, hands resting on the other girl's hips, holding her close. The ginger tilts her head, deepening the contact, hand moving from that rough hold on her jaw to draped behind her shoulder. Lips open and close, open and close, dancing, never still. She doesn't miss the way her tail bristles when she makes a pass with her tongue across that cute and pink bottom lip.

 

The drawn out seconds drop away from under them when they pull away, Rayn stumbling back a couple of steps. Emma runs the back of her wrist over her mouth, watching the cute little kitten stare at her wide eyed, breathless. Finally, she comes to, but she doesn't look nearly as smug as she did before. “God damn… I thought you were gonna try to get away with just a peck.”

 

She's so adorable when she's overwhelmed, Emma notes, and finds the struggle within herself nearly resolved. “Call me an overachiever.”

 

Sadly, Rayn doesn't stay stunned for long. She's right back into the other's space, clasping hands behind her waist, leering up at her with bedroom eyes over the tops of her glasses. “Bet you won't  _ fuck _ a chick, though.”

**Author's Note:**

> Boy. First time using Ao3 other than to read stuff. Expect this story to get way bigger than I ever intended it to be.


End file.
